


Shadow of the Big Top

by ColdWarSaint



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers, The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern
Genre: Carnival, Gen, Mystery, Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:32:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 15,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4900426
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ColdWarSaint/pseuds/ColdWarSaint
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by The Night Circus, this Hetalia fanfiction captures a circus stalked by sabotage and embroiled in a conflict of the supernatural. Performers such as Alfred, the illustrious ringmaster, Arthur, THE Magaician, Gilbert, flame dancer, and Matthew, animal tamer, become entangled in a web of deceit and injury as a mysterious force beyond their control begins what is intended to be a one sided chess game, with an ended to their estranged circus family as endgame. Can they outperform the saboteur or are they doomed to fall into his trap, and tear one another apart?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

Prelude  
“Let’s start at the beginning. A very good place to start.”  
-The Sound of Music  
The ringmaster takes off his top hat and gently sets it down. He picks up his glasses, wipes them off just below the heavy glitter on his jacket, and for the first time all night the lamplight comes into focus. A sigh. Off slips the jacket over his sweat dampened, tan skin. He takes such care folding the thing and securing it away. Across the small space he now occupies his brother, the animal tamer, watches as if taking such care is narcissistic. It very much is. The ringmaster cares greatly about his uniform, smile and all. Looking good is important, after all, he can only be a star once a night… for a few hours. Shiny boots, black pants, one by one the pieces off his costume come off- except one. Both sit across from each other, still wearing their masks; the charming ringmaster and the fearless animal tamer.  
Outside of their boxcar lies a line of others. The other performers, settling into their small rooms after their shows: after another long day. A magician, no THE magician, argues with his beautiful assistant. Neither bother with fake smiles any longer than necessary, sometimes they can’t even hold their masks through the entire show. Another set of brothers are as silent toward each other as they are during their separate acts. And though the contortionist reaches out, offers a snack or two, the tightrope walker just turns away… Farther down that man that plays such sweet love ballads all day pretends the imprint of his old wedding ring doesn’t match with the woman’s- who drives her motorcycle through a loop of fire.  
In a city near the old train tracks a stranger makes a new home. He’s come here because he’s heard there’s a circus in town. A circus that’s been growing in size and popularity recently. A circus rippling with tension and emotion just below the surface. He carries no luggage. He doesn’t pay for his room. In the morning no one will even recall a stranger at all, but for an odd feeling…  
All the performers settle down for the night. Each one thinks their act is done, at least for a little while. A smile spreads across the stranger’s face. All before had only been prelude.  
Let the main act begin.


	2. First Show

Chapter 1  
Alfred sits outside, pulling on a pair of well-worn converse shoes, watching everyone else dress up. He isn’t expected to do anything until the main show starts at 8’pm. No one has any need for a ringmaster outside of show… He notes Arthur’s bursting from his boxcar, his black hat perched atop messy blond hair, flicking his cuffs… what’s that word Francis used? Oh, right, pretentiously… or was it pompous? Either way…  
He must think he’s the most important guy in the show... Alfred thinks, distracted from tying his left shoe, the way he’s always telling everyone how to act ‘n stuff... I mean, I guess magic is cool...  
Well, think of the devil... there’s Francis right behind him- and... what the hel-... is he wearing a cocktail dress?!  
“You are not wearing that thing- that ridiculous thing, you horrid Frenchman!” Arthur is declaring in disgust. It’s clear this is a continued argument. “I need a beautiful assistant not whatever the bloody hell you are! As if your face in my show wasn’t bad enough you’ve decided to go and make yourself even more distractibly hideous!”  
Francis laughs in response. He delights in tormenting Arthur. “But mon petite cher! I did this for you! To be... extra gorgeous!”  
He receives a stern glare. “You did it to embarrass me, frog! How will all those women you always speak of see you now, hmmm?”  
Francis flips his blonde hair. “They will appreciate my exquisite style- as you do not. Ha! But the dress is of no matter. I could wear anything- or nothing- and still tally higher than you where lovers are involved!”  
“I’d rather you wear nothing!” Arthur snaps, stomping past Alfred in the direction of the Magicians tent.  
Francis’s retort is lost in the distance. Alfred’s 4-second attention span clicks over to another pair. Rodriech, with his long piano-playing fingers, is braiding Elizabeth’s hair into a crown to fit inside of her helmet. Alfred doesn’t care to listen to their conversation, partly because it isn’t very close or near as loud as the previous one. Instead he regards her outfit with jealousy.  
I wish I was that good at riding motorcycles or at doing anything really... Anything besides being really loud... Even the guys who are running the food stands and doing maintenance are more useful than me. I wish-  
A heavy weight settles on Alfred’s shoulders, distracting him. He looks up, surprised.  
“It’s getting cold. You should wear a coat.” Matt says softly. Alfred adjusts the jacket around his shoulders.  
“I’m good. The ticket booth is pretty warm.” But he still slides his arms into the sleeves. He loves his bomber jacket. Almost as much as his ringmaster costume.  
“Mmmm. You mean thank you?” Matt comments, all dressed up in his costume, ready to head to the Animal Tamer’s tent.  
Must be a lot more exciting than taking tickets all day long... wait, what had Matt said?  
“Uhm, can you walk with me” Alfred asks, standing up, left shoe still untied. Matt shakes his head, noticing the shoe but saying nothing.  
“I’m helping Kat get ready, Al. Sorry.” She’s the other animal tamer- though she doesn’t deal with the dangerous or exotic stuff, like Matt.  
“Oh,” Alfred shrugs, “I know the way, anyways...”  
They hardly walk together anymore. 

(A shift in the perspectives of the story-----------------------------------------------------------)

A tall, rather pale, stranger has arrived early on the day the circus opens. He’s very near the front of the line. The man taking tickets, in fact, is later than he and that is very unprofessional. Of course, at least the line can move now. A smile is offered up by the strange man to the blonde standing in the booth.  
“That coat is very old.” He comments.  
The ticket taker returns the man’s smile with much more genuine emotion. He has a lovely smile.  
“It was my grandpa’s jacket, from the world war two, isn’t that sweet? It’s not like... crazy old.” He replies enthusiastically.  
The stranger nods, touching his own scarf for a moment, “I see you are anticipating the cold as well. That is smart for you. Things will be growing far colder soon.”  
Alfred frowns. Odd thing to say... Before he can respond, however, the tall man has vanished within the circus. He shivers, thinking it was a good thing he brought his jacket, just like... wait, who had he just spoken to? It was Matt who had told him to anticipate the cold...  
Wasn’t it?

 

(Time for someone A LOT more awesome to take over this storyline!! Leave out all this amateur suspense stuff, am I right?)  
I’m up at the crack of dawn and so is my awesome baby brother. We always are. Awake before anyone else. I’m not saying it’s a competition but if it were we would win. Well, I would win. I’m up before Ludwig. I could kill everyone else in their sleep- just in case I have to- not that I would.  
“Good morning Luddy!” I give him his daily hug (because I am a wonderful older brother.) and he pushes me away. He always does that. He thinks just because he’s a crazy-cool-motorcycle-death-trick-rider with Liz that he’s too cool for me. But he’s not! (And if he were I raised him to be.) Fire-dancing is way more awesome than anyone else’s pansy little “tricks”.  
I get ready for the day as efficiently as usual. Chatting about previous shows and new plans. Then, upon leaving the boxcar my awesomeness had been assigned to, and on the way to breakfast a wild Frenchman flings himself into my arms.  
‘Gilberte darling! Tell this silly eeenglushmun that I look absolutely fabulous!”  
I look him up and down, taking in his sparkly ensemble and like the great friend I am- whistle appreciatively, “Damn Francis, you look sexy.”  
Because which of us hasn’t worn a sexy dress and wanted the support of a best friend? Besides. Francis has damn nice legs. He laughs in triumph because he knows my opinion is really the only one that matters anyways and- double win- Arthur is peeved. They continue their bickering. I think Ludwig has left me behind... huh, no matter! I’m too awesome to care. I may not find him again, but I do find breakfast. And with breakfast- Toni!  
“Hey Toni! Your ass is looking fantastic in those dancer tights. As always.” I make sure to inform him.  
Toni smiles his happy and care-free smile. I truly believe, on the list with how awesome I am, that he is the only genuinely always happy person in this entire circus.  
“Thank you Gil,” He responds.  
I then proceed to high-five his rear. Some would say I slap it, but that’s ridiculous. Toni goes off to his tent, to ribbon dance, or whatever notasawesomeaswhatIdo act that he has. I pass Roddy absentmindedly rubbing the indent of his wedding ring, pretending it’s just some ring indent. Though I happen to know he still has the thing and wears it on occasion. (The mark will never fade that way old buddy. It’s like smoking. We can all smell it on you.)  
Whatever. He doesn’t even have his own show. This is my time to shine. I hop up on my stage to set up. I ‘effing love my act. Fire is awesome.  
I dance the flames across my fingers. Lately I’ve been experimenting with ways to blur the lines between the fire and myself. I can only do small things like hold it in my hands right now, but someday I could be the greatest fire dancer to ever live!! (I already am, but still, I like to work hard for these sorts of titles. Have goals. Practice hard. Deserve my titles.)  
The ticket booth should be open by now. Patrons coming in. Time to start the show!! 

(Control is wrenched from Gilbert, because we can never tell a good story in such a manner. The circus life continues peaceably thought day one- Until the main show takes center stage, in the big top.)

8 pm  
Time for show! Well... 7: 30, same thing. Alfred can get out of his ticket booth! He can get ready like everyone else had done upon waking. He unfolds his sparkly jacket from its carefully arranged plastic. This is a costume he loves. At no other point in the day does he even bother to brush his hair.  
Glasses come off and everything shifts into a blurrier state. The change is almost comforting- having a soft edge to replace the harsh geometric lines of reality. Alfred exits his boxcar, making his way to the big top tent, careful not to get dust on his tall, shiny, black boots.  
7:40  
Perfect timing. Goodness knows he’s late to everything else, bless his heart. Open the tent’s flap and enter the chaotic, hastily thrown together preparation area. Even back here the buzz of a gathering audience can be heard. Alfred feeds off the sound. An entire crowd here to see him- well, perhaps not, they prefer the real tricks- but they’ll have to focus on him. And that’s a trick all on its own.  
7:50  
The ringmaster calls together all of his performers. He is their leader now: he’s in charge. For 2 hours at least...  
“Listen. This is our first night in this city sooooo we’ve gotta make a good impression”  
There was so much arguing at first. Alfred wasn’t a serious figure in many performers’ eyes. But Alfred could be intimidating, he was above 6 feet tall, and this job he took with much more than a grain of salt.  
“I don’t want anything extra tonight. We always play it safe on night one. I mean it. I’ll shut your act down.”  
Alfred did not make idle threats. He was good at talking. At smoothly manipulating the audience so they couldn’t tell what was planned, what was mistake, and what was punishment.  
“Also I noticed lots of kids, more than adults really, soooo... cut down the risky or scary stuff. Sorry Gil, Nat, Mattie, Liz, and Lud, but I’m trimming your acts.”  
Fire throwing, knife throwing, animal taming, and motorcycles... all the fun stuff. Gilbert mocks Alfred behind his back to Francis and Toni. Alfred doesn’t notice their snickering. He’s too focused before the show to pay any attention. He wants the best for his audience.  
“Felix, Torris- clown act is good, please make more transitions tonight.”  
Please may be a key word there but it’s a command and not a suggestion. They’ve figured that out.  
“It’s gonna be a great show guys! It always is!”  
One last huge smile before he releases the performers to get in position. He takes his post, ready to burst into the main ring, capture his audience’s attention. Those people watching who would never dream that the boy taking tickets could be the same man enthralling them now...  
8 pm  
Alfred hesitates. Someone who should not be anywhere near him has caught his attention. He steps towards the shadowed figure, tall...vaguely familiar... but the stranger is gone as quickly as he appeared. Must have imaged it entirely. Late September and already the Halloween spirit is getting to him.  
8:01  
The precise and never-a-moment-behind ringmaster steps onto his stage a minute late.


	3. Unease

Chapter 2  
“People see what they wish to see. And in most cases, what they are told that they see.”  
-The Night Circus

Matthew rolls his eyes, “Alfred shut up already.”  
“NO! Matt! You don’t understand! I was a whole minute late!”  
“No you weren’t. You’re being ridiculous. You were right on time. It was the same as every other opening show we’ve ever had.” Expect for an odd feeling he’s having a hard time shaking, the image of purple eyes in the crowd...  
“Matt, trust me. You’re the wrong one. I know I was late!”  
Matt sighs and rolls over in his bed. Why am I cursed with the most annoying brother ever? “A minute doesn’t matter either way. It’s so small it’s unnoticeable.”  
“It’s very noticeable! It’s the opening show, Matthew! It’s the opening show! The tone is set for our whole stay here now! Matthew! Matthew?!”   
He’s asleep, or pretending at least. Ignoring Alfred.   
“Fine. Fine! But I’m telling you, we should leave...”  
He’s not being dramatic for a minute late. Something is wrong. He knows it. He feels it.   
“I can’t sleep.” He announces while pacing in his pjs, his uniform all put away. Matthew isn’t listening any longer, but Alfred still likes to talk as if he is. If there’s one thing he hates it’s being ignored.   
“I’m going outside.”  
No response. Alfred sighs and grabs his bomber jacket, out the door before he’s even got it fully on. His walk is brisk and purposeful, but there’s no destination planned. Alfred passes boxcar after boxcar flash by, lights on in most- catching snippets of conversations and laughter, but his mind is too busy tonight to listen in.   
The moon is bright, and its light bathes that empty circus in a celestial glow. Cold air clears the mind, and by the time he arrives at the locked ticket booth he feels... silly. He should go back and sleep. It was only a minute... only...  
There’s a shadow behind him. A tall man- taller than he is even. As he turns to go back he catches the figure bathed in the light of the moon, but only for a moment.   
“Hey! You can’t be here!” Alfred calls.  
A passing cloud drops them into blackness. Undeterred Alfred runs towards where he imagines the figure must have been, giving chase to shadows in the night. When the moon reappears he sees he’s gotten lucky, for there is a figure, a dark outline, leaning against a boxcar.   
“I told you! This is trespassing!” Alfred yells while grabbing the man, slamming him against the steel wall of the train.   
A lit cigarette falls. Silky black hair falling from a loose ponytail into the man’s wide eyes.  
“A-Alfred? What are you doing?!” Yao, their contortionist, asks in a voice that is very quickly moving from scared to annoyed.   
“Yao... oh...” Alfred lets go. “It’s... I thought I saw... someone else. Someone who doesn’t belong.”   
“What a ghost? Silly American stories! You are ridiculous, it is late, go to sleep. Stop bothering me.”  
A ghost. Maybe.  
“Yeah, sorry...” Alfred stuffs his hands into his pockets and quickly retreats to his boxcar. Matthew closes his eyes as soon as the door slides open. As if the older brother couldn’t care lass what his baby brother does.   
Alfred sits down on his cot and rubs his eyes. Heaves a deep sigh.  
Are you okay? Matthew never asks.  
No, I’m scared. Aren’t you scared...? Alfred’s ungiven reply lingers between them.  
Yes.

(A shift in the perspectives of the story............................................................................................)

“But I don’t want to wake up...!” Feliciano protests from his warm nest of blankets. His twin brother glares at him from the other side of their shared cot.  
“And you think I want to?! But if we don’t that bastard Antonio will come and wake us up and I don’t want him in here!” Lovino jerks the blankets off Feliciano. “So get up!”   
“Ahhh.. Lovi... noooo~ don’t say those things about Toni! Toni is nice...”  
“You think everyone is nice.” Lovino growls, getting up and stumbling around to find costumes.   
‘Everyone is nice, ve~” Feliciano snuggles up to his pillow, “Some of them just don’t know it yet...”  
“Sure. Some! Ludwig is a ‘nice guy’?! That bastard...” Lovino finds the costumes, “He’s not, and that was sarcasm Feli. Feli...?”  
The much happier Italian is asleep again.   
“DAMN IT WAKE UP!!”   
Their door opens and Antonio pops his head in.  
“Hello, you two! Good morning! I heard yelling~”  
Lovino throws his costumes at him. “GET OUT I WASN’T CALLING YOU, YOU BASTARD!!”  
“Don’t you need these for our show, little tomato?” Antonio asks happily. He’s the man who ribbon dances, twisting in the hanging fabrics feet above the ground. Working with the Italian twins- the acrobats.   
“DON’T CALL ME THAT!!”  
Feliciano whims and covers his head with a pillow, “Stop yelling....”  
“GIVE ME MY COSTUME BACK!!”   
Antonio does so with a delighted smile. Lovino snatches it back.   
“That’s right... get out.” Lovino mutters, “Trying to watch us change, I bet...”  
“Okay! See you at our tent!” Antonio smiles and waves. Feliciano peeks out from the pillow and waves back. Lovino throws his costume at him.  
“Get changed before he comes back!”  
“Ve~...”  
The twins are only a few minutes late for all their arguing. Feliciano wants to reach out and grab his brother’s hand, but he doesn’t think his angry twin wants to be touched. Lovino wouldn’t mind a friendly touch however, he sometimes doubts his brother loves him at all, because his brother seems to prefer strangers...  
They pause for a moment at the tent entrance. Every day they promise the other they won’t fall, they’ll be safe. But this ritual has fallen by the wayside as they’ve become more experienced.   
“Feli, I...” Lovino begins.  
“Oh, look! Ludwig!! Hi!!”   
Lovino sighs and goes inside.  
All their wishes left unspoken at the entrance.


	4. First Blood

Chapter 3   
“Life takes us to unexpected places sometimes. The future is never set in stone, remember that.”  
-Night Circus

Today the tall man, no longer a stranger but still strange, looks at the ticket taker in new respect. He has noticed, as others have not, the fact that this boy and the ringmaster are one and the same. The ticket taker doesn’t smile at the tall man with purple eyes today; instead his eyes squint in... Well, recognition, it looks like. How perceptive, perhaps he’s been underestimated after all. The stranger smiles, takes his ticket, and winks. A startled look crosses the blonde boy’s face, but the strange man is once again gone and in a haze of memory.   
Yesterday, opening day, he had gone and seen each individual show. All the tricks and costumes and acts... Oh, they were good. Good at pretending, at keeping these mask they wore on tight and not letting go of a persona. Under each fluid movement he could see the technique of a hundred practiced attempts. Yes, this circus was perfect. The thoughtless repetition of specialized performance had replaced a countless number of emotional connections. Masks intercepted reality, confusing the imagination with actuality.   
With no insight this circus looks spectacular, yet underneath he can see the troubled waters. Just a few more pressure points to exploit and all of this, this fantasy, will come crashing down. He sighs, because this shouldn’t be so easy. But it always is.

(A shift in the perspectives of the story.................................................................................)

The Vargas twins have started their show. Things are going smoothly, as they do every day. Neither of the Italian boys even notices the net anymore, sometimes they even claim they could work without it. What a show that would be...  
Feliciano scans the audience from time to time between flips and tosses. He loves seeing all the smiling faces, the delight of the patrons. To him it’s all about making people happy.   
For a moment his eyes lock with a vibrant purple pair. He’s only distracted for half a second.  
Lovino reaches for his twin after launching himself off the platform. Feliciano isn’t even looking.   
“Feli!! Frattello!!”   
Their fingers brush. Purple eyes slip away. Feliciano swings empty handed.  
“Lovi!! Lovi!!”  
He hits the net. It only holds for a few seconds before snapping. Antonio, alerted by the screaming, unfurls himself from the ribbons and runs towards the limp boy.   
“Lovi...?” Feliciano repeats, helpless, guilty, tearful. The net must have helped but even that is a good 10 feet off the ground...  
Lovino whimpers and sits up. There are tears on his cheeks.  
“Little tomato?” Antonio kneels down beside him. “What hurts?”  
The audience waits, breathless.  
“My wrist...” Lovino’s arm is clearly broken. Antonio sighs in relief. Feliciano leaps from the ladder he’d been ascending and runs over.   
“It’s okay, he’s okay.” Antonio says comfortingly. He draws both crying twins against him. “Hush, my little tomatoes... it’s okay.”   
Slowly the audience clears out, the show clearly over. The Spaniard escorts his makeshift family out, to the med tent. Feliciano hesitates before he leaves the tent, he can’t shake the feeling of those purple eyes... He hurries after his brother. Accidents like this don’t just happen. It has to be his fault. 

(A shift in the perspectives of the story...........................................................................) 

“Those nets were old anyways.”  
“I can’t believe he dropped his twin, though! They never mess up!”  
“Do we need new nets now?”  
“I guess there won’t be an acrobat show today...”  
“Can Feli do the act alone?”  
Alfred paces. Everyone is in costume early tonight. They closed the circus an hour sooner than normal.  
“Are we keeping their tent open?”  
“What about Toni?”  
“Poor Lovi, how bad is the fracture?”  
“When can he perform again?”  
Something is wrong. Alfred knows it. Why is everyone acting like this is a normal accident? One minute late last night, a broken arm today... That isn’t okay. They should leave...  
“I’m not even sure we should have a show tonight!!” The ringmaster’s voice rings out above everyone else’s. There’s a pause. They all laugh. Alfred is so overdramatic. He loves the show, there can’t be any way he’s serious.   
“...Just be careful.” Alfred dismisses them without his usual speech. Funny, they think, didn’t know he cared so much for Lovino. He must just be pissed that his precious schedule is disrupted with the absence of the acrobats.   
8 pm. At least they’re on time today. Watching Alfred and the rest of the actors you wouldn’t know that anything had happened, but for the acrobat’s swings hanging empty. Even in the most interactive parts of the show, when Natalia is throwing knives at the ringmaster, he keeps the façade up. Narrating through each act, jokingly or dramatically, going what is needed for the show to go on.  
As soon as it’s over, however, Alfred goes to the Vargas twins. They won’t listen to him. Feliciano just keeps repeating that the accident was his fault, while Lovino complains about the quality of “this cheap-ass circus”. Neither takes any of Alfred’s theories seriously. At this point he isn’t sure if he’s right or crazy...


	5. Suspicions

Chapter 4  
“But dreams have a way of turning into nightmares.”  
-Night Circus  
Things are quiet that night. More so than they’ve ever been before. The unease everyone is ignoring has settled into the actors like cold in their bones. Feliciano is the only one tonight who’s feeling anything more. He lays close to his twin brother and holds him tightly, because he’s just realized how close he came to losing his only family, and how badly that would have hurt.   
Lovino half-heartedly complains, but he appreciates his brother’s love. It’s nice to know, for sure, that his brother does care. They had both been beginning to doubt it. 

(A shift in the perspectives of the story..............................................................................)  
“You. You’re back.” Alfred doesn’t hand him a ticket.  
The purple-eyed man smiles, it never reaches his eyes. “Is that unusual? Do people not come more than one day?”   
Alfred’s eyes narrow, “What’s your name?”   
The man tilts his head, “That is not your business. Nor your job.”   
He’s right of course, Alfred is being very rude. But this seems important to the young man.   
“Just tell me your name! Or I won’t give you a ticket!”   
The taller man raises an eyebrow, “Ivan. Was that worth your curiosity?”  
“Hmph.” Alfred hands over the ticket he’d been withholding. He doesn’t wish Ivan a good day.   
The ringmaster was going to be a problem, Ivan could tell. He wasn’t perceptive, as Ivan had originally thought, he was too egotistical, too stupid to know when he was being illogical. Normally others would think logically through simple accidents and an odd feeling or two before pinning down a visitor as a possible saboteur. In this case Ivan had in fact not underestimated the boy enough, as he should have been underestimating him to a point where the underestimation would have been an advantage. And in this case the young blonde ringmaster’s erratic imagination paired with an egotistical trust in self was indeed an advantage. So Ivan would have to play a better game, move faster. That’s fine. He was up to a challenge.  
Some acts were outside today, the weather was nice, clear if a bit brisk. A small Japanese man is balancing precariously up on a high wire, dressed in all black. Like a ninja, must have been the idea; how cliché are all circuses...  
(A shift in the perspectives of the story.................................................................................)  
Kiku Honda did not make mistakes. His concentration never wavered, never broke. Not for a moment. Each featherlight step was placed perfectly. He never even glanced down from the high wire to acknowledge his audience. Never saw the set of purple eyes fix upon him.   
Today, because he is outside in the chilly air, his brother Yao can see him from the contortionist’s stage. Kiku was very distant Yao lately, more so than his quiet nature should allow.  
For a moment the long pole in Kiku’s hands that’s balancing him wavers. He pauses. The weight is off, heavier to one side all of the sudden. Rather than let it drag him down Kiku lets go of it, so that the weighted balance falls end over end, nearly hitting an audience member.   
Cries of surprise alert the contortionist as the thing is dropped, and he unfurls himself to see Kiku crouching on his wire two stories above while attempting to regain his balance. Yao feels his heart skip a beat. He leaps down from his stage, confusing onlookers. Pushes through the crowd in time to see the thick cord upon which Kiku is balanced snap.  
“Kiku!!” Yao yells, running forward as if to catch him.   
The Japanese man doesn’t panic. He catches himself on the falling cord, swings down and flips off a moment before he would have collided with the opposite pole, landing neatly on his feet. Looking on, his performance is so calm that it could all be an act, and the audience applauds accordingly. But one man can see the slight tremor in Kiku’s stance, one man knows him well enough to see through the crack in his mask, however small it may be. Yao envelopes Kiku in a hug and his baby brother sighs softly in relief, resting his forehead against the comforting presence.   
Ivan has disappeared.   
(A shift in the perspectives of the story.................................................................................)  
“Dude that sucks...” Alfred comments from his place across from the smaller Japanese man. It’s nice to have some company for once while everyone else is working. Course he didn’t want it to come about like this... The Italians had been around too, but they didn’t really talk to him. Kiku was one of his closer friends.  
“Yes, it was a little frightening, I’d thought that my rope was secure,” Kiku’s brow knits slightly. Yao had escorted him all the way back to the boxcars. He couldn’t do his act anymore, anyways, not without the equipment.  
“It was secure. I mean... it was new, right? Right. I know those nets were old but that rope? It was new enough not to have snapped. How often does that happen anyways...?” Alfred bites his thumbnail, thinking. A minute later, a broken net, a broken rope....   
Kiku gives him a quizzical look, “Are you suspecting sabotage? I don’t know if that’s possible. No one was around. It was like every morning.”  
Like every other morning. That’s just the problem isn’t it? That everything for years is the same and everyone understands what their place is, and everything goes perfectly for so long- then bam! It stops. Things do not just stop like that for no given reason. So if not sabotage what was the reason?   
“I guess... but two accidents in a row? Weird right?” Alfred tries again. Hoping his friend will validate him on this.  
“Yao told me about last night, when you attacked him. Are you alright? Do you really think it’s a ghost?” Kiku asks instead, a tad concerned, and a tad amused.  
Alfred sighs and bites his thumb harder, “No... Cause that’d be dumb.”  
But. There. Had. To. Be. A. Reason.   
(DID YOU MISS ME?????????)  
Sorry to break into your angsty cliff-hanger ramblings but I am here to provide real quality entertainment. Alfred seems off when he’s talking to all of us. Maybe he’s off his meds, maybe it’s the fact Kiku fell, maybe it’s Maybelline. Look, the only real point I get out of his speech is that we’re missing two acts so my act is longer. Good. It should be. I should be the whole show! Well, me and Ludwig. I guess I wouldn’t cut out my friends Toni and Francis either though... They could be in the background. Just like the time we had a band...  
Aaaaand the show has started! Almost didn’t notice. That would have been less than awesome. What kinda big bro would miss watching his baby bro? And what kinda friend would miss the acts of his besties?   
I really don’t mind that my act is near the end. I like to climb up onto the stands just behind the curtain and watch. The show may be the same every night but it never feels that way. It feels pretty damn awesome. Sure I mock the kiddo but as a ringmaster he does a good job. Not as well as I might’ve done, but good.   
AH! Yes! What we’ve all been waiting for! The massive steel ball of death!! Look at the thing! It’s so spectacular- the fire hoops, the sound of the motorcycles! I am SO FRICKEN PROUD of Ludwig!! And Liz, course. I love fire. Fire and motorcycles? Even better. If I weren’t too busy being awesome I’d be doing this. Look at them, it’s amazing...   
Other people might make mistakes but not my brother. He’d never-  
“.....Shit.”  
I jinxed it. Well, that’s just a small wobble it’s not so bad... at least Liz is-  
“LUDWIG!!!”   
No, no, no, not my baby brother, no- he will be okay. He will be okay!! I’ll make sure of it... I leap down and run towards the site of the crash.


	6. Knowing is Experiencing

Chapter 5  
“Do not forget that... there are many kinds of magic, after all.”  
-Night Circus  
Alfred is frozen. His eyes fixed upon the crash, gasps of the crowd hardly registering.   
“Ludwig!” Gil’s shout for his brother, his shoving past Alfred, knocks the ringmaster back to reality.  
“Show’s over!” He yells; mask gone, terror shinning through. The audience hesitates, unwilling to look away, “Go! We’re done! You can get your money back, whatever! Go!!”  
Gilbert is pulling Ludwig from the metal globe, and once he’s safely got him out, he goes back in and retrieves Elizevetta- completely unfazed by the fire. He delivers her to Rodriech, who’s abandoned his piano playing and is wringing his hands.   
Both riders are injured, but neither too badly. The thick suits they wear prevented any major burning, so the crash only resulted in a few broken bones. Still, this is the worst accident by far, and the possibility that it could have been worse weighs heavily on everyone’s minds. Most of all Gilbert and Rodriech, who clench their loved ones tightly.  
Strangely, Alfred also feels a great degree of stress... of responsibility. He paces back and forth across the packed dirt of the tent floor as the last members of the audience depart, as the other performers escort their injured friends away. His face is as white as the December snow, because he knows. He knows beyond a shadow of a doubt that there is something very, very wrong.   
“Al?” Matthew’s voice echoes in the empty tent.   
Alfred blinks. The tent is empty? He hadn’t noticed... when had they all left? What was I waiting for?   
“Al! There you are! I’ve been looking for you, I was wondering why you didn’t come and eat. You always come and eat.” Matthew lays a hand on his brother’s arm, “Let’s go. Dinner is still hot.”  
Alfred shakes his head.  
“You’re not hungry?” Matthew asks incredulously.   
Another shake of the head, cloudy blue eyes meet Matthew’s warm violet ones. He takes his brothers hand from his shoulder and clutches it, his fingers ice cold. The distress in Alfred’s eyes, the tightness of his grip, alarms Matthew.   
“Are you oka-“ Matthew begins, concerned.   
“Something is wrong. We need to leave. Now.”  
“...what?” His eyebrows knit together, “But Al, it’s just a few accidents...”  
“No! No, Matt. You’re not seeing it. Listen to me, please. Someone is doing this. Intentionally.”  
“That... seriously? Do you have any idea how crazy you sound right now?”  
“Yes, but how else can all this be explained?!” Alfred lets go of Matthew, “The tightrope, the nets, the motorcycles! It’s simple physics! Things don’t change randomly- they have to be acted upon! I know-”  
“So we’re a bit unlucky this week. Calm down. They’re just accidents.”  
“No! They aren’t! Why don’t you believe me?! You’re my brother! You have to-”  
“I have to want you to be stable. And I do. And this is not that. You’re being completely irrational right now. I’m trying to look out for you.”   
“No, nope,” Alfred repeats once again, backing away a few steps, “No, no, no. If you cared about me you’d be listening to me, because I don’t feel safe. Because I am failing here...”  
“Failing?” Matthew sighs, “Failing what?”  
“Everyone! I’m the ringmaster! I protect them! I protect everyone and right now I’m failing!”   
“Al-”  
“I knew something was wrong! I felt it! And I let bad things happen!”  
“Alfred.”  
”They both could have died! Kiku could have died! More could die!”  
“Alfred!”  
“And you won’t believe me... I’m the ringmaster! This is my circus,” He’s pacing frantically, “and it’s my fault... It’s got to be-”  
“ALFRED!” Matthew steps forward and grabs him. “Stop. Right. Now. Listen to me.”  
“B-but-”  
“No. My turn. Shut up. We aren’t going to pack up and leave. We aren’t going to shut down. Everything is fine. They are just accidents.”   
“They’re not!” Alfred tries to pull away. “I’m the ringmaster. I-”  
“Don’t say that again! You are not in charge of anyone! You are nothing more than a pretty face and a loud voice and no one is relying! No one expects anything from you. Do you understand?”  
There’s a long moment of silence. Alfred opens and closes his mouth a few times, blue eyes shattered.  
“...yeah.” He finally nods.  
“Good. Go put away your uniform and come eat.”  
They walk back to the boxcars without another word. The ringmaster... no, just Alfred, doesn’t bother to keep the dust off his shiny boots.   
(A shift in the perspectives of the story..........................................................................)  
Ivan didn’t leave when told. He was there that night, and he was delighted the next morning to find a glassy eyed boy who avoided his stare in the ticket booth. They were turning on one another. The fragile web the performers had spun was snapping thread by thread with the right pressure points being pushed. He shouldn’t have been worried, the ringmaster was easily defeated.  
This process was so deeply familiar to him at this point. Each and every circus with these troubles deserved to collapse, the bitterness he knew existed from experience should always be brought to the surface, by any means. Time to speed things up.   
(Did you really think I’d leave you guys on that note?)  
Of course my brother and Liz’s accident had me shaken up. I loved my brother as much as... more than I loved myself. And Liz was a really good friend of mine. An old friend too. But other than the concern for their safety I was feeling weird about the crash. Trust me, neither of them would have messed up. Well, maybe Liz, but I promise- they’ve done that course with their eyes closed. Something else must have caused it...  
Either way, I have an act to prepare for. I love the act. I love being the center of attention. Being on stage should calm my nerves. The feeling all those eyes taking in my awesomeness, and the enlightenment of an audience might sooth some of these crazy uneasy feelings, anyhow.   
I step out into my metaphorical spotlight and give the people a cocky grin. They love me, I can tell. With a slightly sexy, don’t want to overwhelm them, hip flick, I launch into my act. Fire spins and dances around me like a living thing. My spinning and beautiful mistress. Everything seems to be in chaos, and ever gasp I hear confirms a barely avoided disaster. Or so it seems. I have everything under control. I always have. A mistake would be unthinkable, my mistress whispers her love to me with warm kisses and hot touches. She wouldn’t betray me. I have been with her far too long. Our relationship is one of practiced, meticulous, perfection.   
So there isn’t any way that I could slip. And... when I somehow end up on the ground there isn’t any way the pain could be from fire... Why on earth is the crowd screaming? I haven’t done any tricks... That smoke can’t be coming from me... no... and what’s that smell? Something is burning... My act is perfect... I didn’t do anything wrong... I don’t understand... Why I’m in so much pain....  
Purple eyes meet mine before black and red consume me fully.


	7. A Reason to

Chapter 6  
“People don’t pay much attention to things unless you give them a reason to.”  
-Night Circus

Ludwig visits his older brother in the hospital. Ludwig is incredibly concerned, despite his own injuries, about his burned sibling. Ludwig leaves his brother’s side for- it had to be less than a half an hour- to retrieve food for them both. Ludwig finds said “beloved” older brother gone. Ludwig does not bother eating.   
(A shift in the perspectives of our story............................................................................................)  
Alfred returns to his boxcar without ceremony once he’s done collecting tickets. He’d heard of Gil’s accident, feels that same fear he felt all along... but today he’s missing his passion to right the wrong...  
Slowly he opens the door to his makeshift home. Steps inside. Sighs heavily.  
“Hello ringmaster.”  
Alfred shrieks and falls out of the boxcar, landing on his butt in the dirt.  
“Who- what- Get back!!” He yells from the ground outside, kicking his legs.  
After a rather long period of nothing happening Alfred finally stands and kinda sheepishly re-enters the boxcar to face the heavily bandaged figure of Gilbert.  
“....you okay dude?” Alfred coughs after a moment.  
“No. But that’s not important right now.”  
“Uhhh... shouldn’t you be-”  
“Been there, done that.” Gil’s eyes burn into Alfred’s soul. “I think you know the reason I’m here ‘crazy’.”  
Alfred shivers slightly under that penetrating gaze. He does know.  
“Uhm.... no...” But he isn’t in the mood right now.  
“Something is wrong in the circus.” Gil says firmly.  
Yes! But no... Remember what Matt said! Alfred sighs deeply and his shoulders slump.  
“Nah... Gil it’s just your imagination. Trust me, they’re just a buncha accidents...”   
Gilbert’s eyes narrow, “First of all- I don’t have accidents. Second- why the hell are you being logical right now I came to you and not Ludwig for a reason!”  
Yet Alfred is unstirred by the speech. He sinks down on the bed beside Gilbert. Shrugs a defeated shrug.  
“Matt said I was being dumb and I’m not here to think and worry and that I’m pretty and these are just accidents and-”  
“Okay, stop. Listen. Your brother is right. And he’s being a dick because he’s protective and loves you. And you are very pretty. Your brother is always right.”   
“But then why-”  
“THIS IS NOT THE TIME FOR BEING RIGHT!! This is action taking, gut-instinct following, trusting-in-my-awesome time!!”  
Alfred just shrugs sadly again. Gilbert grabs his arms with stiff, heavily bandaged fingers.  
“Alfred. I need you.”  
The young man perks up a bit at those words. Gilbert goes in for the kill.  
“I need you to be a hero. My hero. This circus’ hero.”  
How can Alfred possibly refuse that offer?  
“... alright. I’m in. His name is Ivan.”  
(A shift in the perspectives of the story.............................................................................................)  
Matthew was irritated before his show. Ludwig had found his older brother with Matthew’s younger brother. Al had dragged Gil into his paranoia right at the moment that Matthew had talked him down!   
The polar bears must have sensed his agitation. They seemed on edge too. Maybe his animals were the only things that cared about him anymore...  
“It’s alright babies...” He coos halfheartedly.  
Kat has already come in to warn him about show starting soon. He knows he has to put all of this nonsense aside and keep up a mask... Anything for his audience!  
Deep breaths... Matthew steps out into his small tent- his bears in tow. With the newfound resolution about his connection with the animals, he’s surprised to find the tricks aren’t going very well. Apparently the bears are really on edge, beyond just his own worry about his brother, because they aren’t listening. At all. Not even Kuma, his favorite. Now, Matthew would never dream of hurting an animal, he had never used a whip, but right now he kinda wished he had one...  
Work went into keeping the audience from seeing his mounting panic, his slips in control. Still they were getting restless watching the tamer repeat the same command again and again multiple times only to be ignored.   
Finally, finally Matt steps back from the bears.  
“Kat we’re done.”  
“But Matt-”  
“Now.”  
“Oh... ah... sorry very much people but ah-”  
She’s cut off by a roar. Matthew’s eyes narrow when everyone else flinches.   
“Get them out.” Matthew commands Kat in a level voice without taking his eyes off Kuma. He doesn’t understand what’s wrong. Is his animal friend hurt? Or sick? He couldn’t be... Matthew would have noticed something like that- he’s very attentive, “Do it slowly.”  
As she rushes- in a slow fashion- to obey the order, swayed by the tension in his voice- Matthew approaches his bears.   
“It’s okay... it’s me... hey, babies calm down.”  
They’ve never acted like this. They won’t attack him. They’ve never attacked.  
“Don’t look at the people okay? Look at me instead...”  
Something else must be doing this. Animals don’t just turn like this- not perfectly healthy and well trained ones that aren’t cats.   
His hand almost touches the bear’s snout. Funny... Kuma’s eyes have never been that shade of purple have they? The other hand reaches for a treat.   
Kuma rears up with another deafening roar as he’s touched. Matthew hesitates too long when pulling back.   
A woman screams. Ivan smiles.


	8. The Potential of Loss

Chapter 7  
“It is difficult to see a situation for what it is when you are in the midst of it... it is too familiar. Too comfortable.”  
-Night Circus  
Alfred abandoned his post the moment he heard. He climbed out of the window of the ticket booth and sprinted all the way to the medical center- which had seen far too much activity recently.  
“MATTIE!” The voice jolts the older man lying on the cot, prompting him to look over.  
“Al, hey...”  
“ARE YOU OKAY?!”  
“Calm down, stop shouting...”  
Alfred takes in his brother’s bandaged chest and covered left arm with a whimper. Matthew reaches out his good arm, inviting the younger man to sit on his bed. Without another word Alfred bursts into tears.  
“We argued... I-I’m so sorry.... I-I love y-you...” He sniffles. Matthew smiles slightly, patting his leg.  
“I know. It’s okay. I’ll be okay.”  
“Stop comforting me! You... you’re hurt!” Alfred wails.  
“Hush... C’mere baby bro.”  
When Alfred leans down Matthew kisses his forehead and wipes away his tears. The thought that this could have been lost makes Alfred all the more upset.  
“Mattie... M-Mattie I’m sorry but... y-you got hurt a-and I was so worried... I-I know that you said not t-to be st-stressed but-” His voice cracks and he engulfs his injured brother in a hug that makes him wince.  
“A little less tight there okay...?” Matt pats his brother’s back until he can breath comfortably again.  
“I-I don’t wanna argue anymore b-but... someone is doing this...?” Alfred helplessly looks up at his injured brother, pleading, “I-I won’t argue... p-promise.... b-but...”  
More sniffling. Matthew sighs and ruffles his baby brother’s hair.  
“No more arguing, Alfie. I should have listened to you in the first place. I’m sorry I invalidated your fears.”  
“R-really?”  
“Yes. Course, bro. I can understand why Gil came to you. Experiencing something that should be impossible is... convincing. And you knew without that experience. You’re very smart.”  
Alfred smiles, feeling real happiness for the first time all week. He opens his mouth to respond but metal shrieking interrupts him. Gilbert is dragging his cot behind him into the small room that’s been set up as a make-shift hospital room.  
“Whoa! Birdie look, we’re roommates.”  
“Gil...”  
“I can’t believe we ended up in the same room! Crazy that you’ve been put into my room with me.” Gilbert comments as he limpingly drags his cot beside Matthew’s.  
Knowing that arguing won’t do any good Matthew just smiles and welcomes himself into what has now apparently become the albino’s room.  
“Gil!! Mattie is on our side now!” Alfred exclaims, popping back into a sitting position, tears still drying on his cheeks.  
“Course he is. Matt is super smart. He knows I wouldn’t mess up.” A wink at the older blonde, who responds with a sly smile of his own.  
“But you said that cause he was smart he wouldn’t-” Alfred doesn’t get far.  
“Yes! And I was right! But experiences change things. Getting attacked by your loyal non-cat pets for no reason changes things.”  
“... Gil I’m not sure anything you say makes sense,” Alfred is confused.  
“Either way! We all ended up as a team!” He laughs, laying back down on his cot.  
“Some team, I’m the only one who can move,” Alfred comments. Gilbert starts to immediately get back up and Alfred shoves him down, “Should move.” He corrects.  
Matthew takes Alfred’s hand, “You’re our eyes and ears. Our leader. Our...” He pauses and squints, trying to read Gilbert’s lips. “Uh.... hero.”  
Alfred squeezes his hand, “I won’t let you down!”  
“I know. Gil and I will continue what you two started yesterday. We have nothing but time for research now.”  
“I’ll start right now!” Alfred leaps over Gilbert’s cot, throws open the door to the hallway and-... almost runs into Arthur.  
“Watch it!” He sounds much more uptight than usual, and is also covered in dried blood. He’s holding his beautiful assistant close in his arms.  
“Whoa... sorry, bro- hey is that Francis? Is he okay?”  
“Does he look okay?! No! He’s not okay! We just got back from the ER...”  
“DAMN IT IVAN!” Alfred yells with no context and takes off again.

(A shift in the perspectives of the story..........................................................................................)  
While Matthew’s blood was still hot on the hard-packed dirt of the Animal Tamer’s Tent Ivan was on the move. So far he had knocked out a good number of shows, but it wasn’t going to be enough. Not until they couldn’t perform their main show at all. Until they tore their own circus apart.  
This place was just one of many, all going back to the same source. He would be sure to avoid the fate of his original home however, that fate being death. Yes, he could have killed any of the performers easily, but he hadn’t. His plan didn’t call for it. No one had pushed him to that point. Not yet.  
No time to think of those details, however. He would step back and admire tonight under the big top- if the show commenced at all after this next trick.

(A shift in the perspectives of the story......................................................................................)  
Arthur bickered with Francis almost habitually at this point. They were French and English- it was expected. Both of the older men weren’t even sure how it had begun, they had known each other so long. It was the small things kept their relationship alive. Little irritating things that both of them did to intentionally annoy each other. Living together and working together for so long had blurred lines, however. Did they actually hate one another or where they pretending?  
“Get in there already.” Arthur hisses to his assistant in regards to the person-sized box.  
Francis is so difficult. He winks and pinches Arthur’s butt before obeying the order.  
“You enjoy this so much. I can’t make it easy for you, darling.” The Frenchman purrs.  
Arthur scoffs, drawing swords from one of his many prop bins. He truly does enjoy this bit of their act. Stabbing Francis, as fake as it may be, is certainty a stress reliever.  
As he spins the cutlass the blade briefly caches the glint of purple eyes from the shadowy back of the audience. With a grand flourish Arthur plunges the blade into the box. Every day the sword misses his French assistant, barely diverted.  
This time there’s a tad more resistance.  
Even for how dramatic Francis usually is the cry of pain is convincing. Arthur pauses.  
“Stop...” Francis gasps.  
Is he simply playing up the dramatic effect? Arthur slowly pulls out another sword. Francis is breathing a little heavily isn’t he? He looks... pale.  
“Arthur... I’m serious... please...”  
The magician stops dead. His lovely assistant wouldn’t ever beg him... A color distracts him just as that thought occurs. A dark red is staining the box around the sword. Arthur’s eyes grow huge, and the sword he was holding clatters to the tent’s floor.  
“Oh... God...” He rushes forward, yanking out the sword. The weak pained sound Francis makes breaks his heart. The box is pried open and Arthur catches the closest thing he’s ever had to a best friend in his arms.  
“I didn’t mean... I didn’t know... ah...” Arthur pulls off his coat and presses it to the wound, “Bloody hell I can’t believe this... Francis I don’t know who replaced that sword, I would never actually hurt you...”  
He’s just now realizing this.  
“Oh... you enjoyed it...” Francis laughs softly. Still teasing.  
Arthur can’t even smile in response, “No. Never. Shut up.”  
The magician hefts his assistant into his arms, holding him tightly.  
“Keep that coat into place. I’m taking you to the ER. Don’t talk! Stop! I can see your mouth opening. I am not prepared to lose you okay?”  
He takes back every fantasy he’d ever had. This reality is horrible.  
Francis closes his mouth and rests his head on Arthur’s chest. Despite the guilt he can see in the Englishman’s eyes he knows without a doubt that Arthur is telling the truth. You don’t live with someone for 8 years without getting to know them, and the moment that sword pierced through his torso he had known- or rather- he had remembered that Arthur did not hate him. That he did not, nor had ever, hated Arthur. That he never could hate Arthur anymore than the brit could hate him...  
Doctors confirm what the magician was praying for. The wound is not fatal. He only has to make sure his friend stays in bed and rests.  
Sure. Francis was going to take advantage of that, and Arthur would complain to no end... but both were more than willing to work together for once.


	9. Releflections

Chapter 8  
“The past stays on you the way powdered sugar stays on your fingers. Some people can get rid of it but it’s still there, the events and things that pushed you to where you are now.”  
-Night Circus

Alfred spends the rest of the day, growing more and frustrated with his lack of findings. There are so many people in this damn circus! It’s like trying to find a purple-eyed needle in a hay stack of other needles, some of which may also have purple eyes. I mean, he’d taken a lot of tickets but geez...  
Mostly Alfred runs between all of the exhibits that are still open; Antonio’s ribbon twirling, Natalia’s knife throwing, Vash and Lily’s trick shots, Rodriech’s musical performance, Felix and Toris’ clown show, and the small petting zoo Kat manages when not helping Matt. Two exhibits down in one day. Ah... Ivan, whatever he was doing, was beginning to stir suspicions among the members of the circus. Sure they had called him crazy at first- but now Alfred’s fear was infecting them. Sabotage was whispered throughout every corner of the circus.  
Alfred caught bits and pieces of these rumors as he went. He hadn’t been the only one to worry after the first accident. Well, he had been the only one to go so far as to take full responsibility for the entire circus, start a witch-hunt for a possible supernatural saboteur, and demand to shut down and move... but, yes, a few others had been concerned. At this rate with 5 accidents having occurred and half of the acts knocked out of the show... people were becoming terrified.   
By nightfall Alfred was out of breath, tired of searching, and doubtful about the main show being able to still go on. He burst into the main tent, hastily dressed and late.   
“You finally showed up!”  
“There’s so many accidents!”  
“What should we do about the missing acts...?”  
“Who’s the person sabotaging us?”   
The last question stops all noise. They’re looking to him for answers. He can see the suspicions in their eyes. One wrong step here and this ‘family’ is going to fall apart. Alfred takes a deep breath. As much as it seemed to him he didn’t matter he is leading this circus, in this moment. The illustrious ringmaster has become more than an act to them, it’s become a needed roll.   
“It’s a man named Ivan.” He says with all the confidence he can muster. Lying is too risky.  
“How do you know that?” Vash calls out.  
Alfred bites his lip, “Well... I don’t. Not for sure. All’s I know is that he’s come every day so far. And he’s been at the scene of every accident.”  
Alfred takes his top hat off entirely. Dropping the mask everyone wants so badly to rely on. It’s time to stop this absurd performance. He wasn’t just the ringmaster, or just a ticket taker. He was both. This couldn’t work if he pretended any longer that they could separate themselves from their acts and their families.  
“Look guys... I know we’re all scared and worried. Cause I know we all cared about those members of our circus, of our family, that are hurt tonight. And the thought that any of us could be next? Yeah, dudes , I’m terrified too. I don’t want to be hurt, but seeing my brother hurt? That was so much worse. Trust me. I want to keep my loved ones safe as much as you guys do. And right now? My loved ones include everyone in this circus.”  
There’s some murmuring. Then the clapping begins, and cheering. Alfred is caught off guard by the round of hugs that follow.   
“I’m worried about this show...” Toris admits, holding Felix’s hand.  
“I’m not putting Lily in danger.” Vash adds, his arm around his little sister.   
Alfred had the same kind of feeling.  
“I was thinking about cancelling the show tonight- if we’re all on board.”  
For the first time in years they are.  
For the first time in years there’s no show. 

(A shift in the perspectives of the story...................................................................................)  
Alfred can’t sleep. He’d been trying now for hours. Tucked beside his brother, listening to Gilbert’s breathing just across from, it isn’t for a lack of feeling safe. He just feels as if something is calling him. Which sounds crazy... but what about this week hasn’t been crazy?  
Besides, Alfred isn’t one not to follow an instinct. Or be sensible. So he gets up and goes outside. Immediately a figure appears before his eyes.   
“Not this again...” He murmurs, but again he takes off sprinting- chasing ghosts in the moonlight.  
This time, however, he doesn’t just attack a stray contortionist. He finds Ivan standing, spotlighted among the trains, looking almost translucent.   
“You! It is you! I knew it!”  
Ivan offers a dry smile, “Oh, yes. Clever boy. Jumping to conclusions that makes little sense only to find yourself right for once.”  
“You hurt my brother! My friends! My circus!”  
“Look at the bigger picture, if you are capable. Your circus? How naive. You believe they are truly your family? Nyet.”  
“What the hell’s your problem, bro?!”  
“My... problem? I do not know how to explain to one so young as yourself. I have seen countless circuses. This one is proving difficult. However, that does not make it any different than the others.”  
Alfred is ready to fight- but Ivan didn’t seem to bring him out here for that. The entire surrounding feels surreal under the full moon.   
“I’m not any younger looking than you! What the hell are you talking about?! Circuses and difficulty?! What do you even know? All’s you’re doing is sabotaging us for no reason!”  
“You are decades younger than me, ringmaster,” He says the word with such contempt and powerful disregard. “I know more than you could ever imagine. And there is reason for sabotage in your failures.”  
“Failures...?”  
“Do not sound so confused! You are supposed to be their leader! Did you not sense their loneliness? The brokenness? There was only false stability in your circus.” Ivan can recall a long, long time ago- his own circus: the tension, the anger, the ringmaster’s brilliant smile. A leader who was truly in control and knew how to use his power. “A false family. So much hatred just below the surface...”  
“Is it my circus or not? You literally just said-”  
“It is your circus ringmaster. But it is not Alfred’s circus- you do not have the connections you imagine.”  
“Dude look. Alfred and the ringmaster are the same person. Took me a bit too, but I realized separating like that is dumb.”  
Ivan strides forward, his coat and scarf billowing around him, moonlight piercing through the fabric furthest from his body. A finger he lays upon Alfred’s chest, over his heart. The young man gasps at the sudden cold that grasps his heart and pierces his lungs. His breath crystallizes between the two of them. Our illustrious ringmaster isn’t used to looking up, he isn’t used to the feeling the feeling of being so small...  
“I’m going to take you out of the game. I have to win.” Ivan says quietly, “Ringmaster. Leader of the circus...”  
Alfred’s eyes widen, the cold choking out his fighting passion, “Dude, hey, no... I-I’m not even that important...”  
Ivan’s touch brings up his fear, as it sucks out the warmth in him: I wish I were more important...  
“I’m just a pretty face, a loud voice...” The young blond is frozen in place, his eyes locked with Ivan’s. Moonlight spins around them, the train yard losing solidity. “... I’m just a good talker... I’m not actually a leader... I just... I’m not good for anything... else...”  
Ivan hesitates as those pretty sky blue eyes glass over. This ringmaster is indeed a mere child... these days it is hard to separate.  
“No more shows,” He says, catching the young man once he removes the life-draining contact, “or I will actually take your life.”  
Ivan lowers Alfred to the ground gently.  
“I have made many miscalculations about you, little one. But I will not leave until this circus is disbanded. I do not expect you to understand. Know that when you wake, if you so choose to ignore my warnings- I will change the rules of the game we are engaged in. A game that was never meant to have more than one player.”  
Alfred’s eyes close and he goes limp. Ivan brushes the hair from the mere child’s face and sighs deeply. Murder, something he before had never considered... But time warps a person’s soul. This mission was born of bitterness. Once upon a time there was such a clear goal, something that could be mistaken for a good intent... Yet that was so long ago, how can one hold on to such a small spark of humanity when they themselves are no longer human? Even before all tragedy his heart had so little faith...

(A shift in the perspectives and times of our story............................................................................)  
Accusing eyes burn into the taller Russian man, ringed by the people ha had thought could accept him. The people he had hoped would be his family...  
Ivan is glad he does not sleep in this state of being. He knows if he did that nightmares would plague him. No murdered man would spend a night in peace.  
The ringmaster, the group leader, has lead this to happen, and now he stands by to observe. Someone must take the fall. What is the life of a Russian immigrant in a red scare?  
Still, these waking visions are almost as bad. There are so very few moments he can admire about his life that those warm memories have faded away bit by bit... leaving him so cold inside...  
He begs in broken English. For his entire life he has run from prosecution... all for naught. They will not forgive him, not even for something he knows he didn’t do... There is no mercy.  
He would tear apart every circus which harbored such animosity. Cause inconvenience before tragedy. Re-create and re-live in each new circus the same events that happened to him... all good intentions aside.  
Sharp pain... betrayal... blood soaks into the wool of his long coat, and his still warm heart beats itself to shreds on the knife blade...  
This game had to be won. That is what it all came down to. To lose would be the end of him- he could feel it. He needed to continue to exist. He would do anything it came down to.  
He never imagined it would come down to this.


	10. Victory?

Chapter 9  
“Secrets have power. And that power diminishes when they are shared, so they are best kept and kept well.”  
-Night Circus  
“The most difficult thing to read is time. Maybe because it changes so many things.”  
-Night Circus

They tear the circus apart looking for him. No ticket taker- no circus. No ringmaster- no show. More than that a member of their circus has gone missing, which put everyone on red alert. The accidents hadn’t worked to tear them all apart. They had instead been united.   
Because it was never true animosity. Just forgotten kinship.   
Matthew, in particular, has never been so worried. He re-opens his wounds, refuses to eat, and has to eventually be sedated for fear of further injury. He’s not the only one who badly wants to find Alfred.   
The whole circus is united in this one effort. All of the accidents- they cannot really lost someone, not after surviving so much. That would be unbearable. Especially not their hopeful young ringmaster- the one who had managed to pull them all together at the time they needed it most.  
Luckily, the found him in under two hours.  
The poor boy is freezing cold, and is taken immediately to his brother in the medical area where he’s packed tight in blankets. Someone, all of the performers manage to fit into the small room that Gilbert has claimed as his own to watch their makeshift leader wake up.  
What a story he has to tell.   
(Shift in the perspectives of the story..............................................................................)  
The city is abuzz! Accidents abound! Shows are cancelled! Then, suddenly, after an entire day of silence and shut gates- a grand show is announced! A whole new line-up of acts! Challenging fate to dare strike again!  
In hours all the city has heard the news (thanks to a certain team of Nordic boys, bless their souls, they work fast). And Lord knows that if the media loves a success story, they love an impending disaster story all the better. Why, it’s all anyone can talk about!  
Can the show really go off without a hitch?  
How are they replacing all their old acts?  
This will be the biggest crowd all week! A smashing final show! The circus will leave the city with a grand legacy, or they will leave not at all.  
They are to be applauded for carrying on in the face of hardship! The people love an underdog! They love the man that spits in the face of danger!  
Well... everyone, that is, but Ivan.   
The idea of fulfilling his promise does not please him. He feels only empty resignation at the unavoidable fact of it.  
(Shift in the perspectives of the story.............................................................................................)  
Alfred was the one talking all the risks tonight. He had told them he’d made, in essence, a deal with the devil: he would not be harmed. It was the only way they’d let him perform such dangerous stunts. It was the only way he could keep the others safe and still thrill his audience.  
Alfred knew the risks. He didn’t care. Ivan was not going to get the best of him. Not after hurting his family, his circus, his loved ones.  
Don’t put on a show my ass. Come and kill me, Ivan. I dare you.  
Tonight was the most risky show he would ever put on, and he was more than ready. He felt invincible. He was the illustrious ringmaster- the leader of an audience! Of an entire circus! An entertainer of the highest caliber!  
Yes, Alfred had finally found his talent, and he finally felt important.  
Thanks for your little love note, Ivan. I’ve never felt more alive.  
Inside the tent the buzz of one of the largest audiences he had ever seen filled his bloodstream. The noise- the challenge- it was all so intoxicating.  
8pm  
Showtime.  
(A shift in the perspectives of the story............................................................................................)  
Reports are coming in backstage. Everyone seems to feel those purple eyes tonight. Ivan is everywhere at once.  
What is he waiting for?  
So far everything is going well. More than well. Perhaps their ringmaster really is keeping the monster at bay. And the audience! Oh, how the audience loves it!  
Invincibility doesn’t seem to be on only Alfred’s mind tonight. With each new amazing act, the downtrodden trope can taste victory. A buildup to a grand finale, a last chapter: a happily ever after.   
(Shift in the perspectives of the story.............................................................................................)  
Make no mistake. Ivan is not going to cease to fight. Not after the promises he’s made. He himself would like to imagine that he was going to allow himself to disappear, but such thoughts have faded with time. What is left of the man Ivan once was is no longer human enough to stop...  
He has become everything that he had worked to stop for so many years, instead falling into their bitterness, their hatred. This young, naïve ringmaster, with his defiant attitude reminds the lost soul far too much of another... of a deceptive and cruel ringmaster, who had turned his back...  
If only Ivan could look, just really look, he could see who very wrong he was. That Alfred was nothing like that other man long ago. That his original judgment of the blond being a mere child was true. That this circus was everything he had wanted from his own.  
That this wasn’t necessary.  
The finale is beginning, he can feel it in the buzz of the crowd around him, hear it in the slight quiver of the ringmaster’s voice. Ivan leans forward towards their last act. He had been waiting for this moment, all that time. To break their confidence at its peak, to prove that their hope was going to come to an end at every new light, and to close this circus by force.   
By any means necessary.  
Below Natalia sharpens her knives, while exchanging some sort of banter with Alfred. Ivan sighs.  
It’s time.  
(A shift in the perspectives of the story..........................................................................................)  
He’s going to actually achieve this! He’s going to actually pull this show off!   
Alfred’s heart is pounding, he knows his circus, his family, feels the same. He can do anything. Ivan must have been scared off! HA!  
“Now, if you’ve ever talked to her before you’d understand this massive temper I’m talking about!” Alfred tells his audience with a wink. Natalia shakes her head, whipping another knife past him, as if in response. It embeds in his top hat, knocking it to the ground. The audience gasps. Alfred raises his hands up, he’s done this so many times, how could he be afraid?  
“Whoa, whoa, sorry Natty- didn’t think you could hear me over their!” He jokes, then back to his audience, “Geez, see what I mean? Can’t find good help anywhere.”  
Another two knives whip past him, barely missing their target, thudding into the wooden walls enclosing the ring. Alfred fakes a yelp. Natalia can’t stop her grin. She feels the excitement too. A few more knives to throw and they’ll be the done with all the dangerous still, and everyone can come back out and parade the success of their beloved circus.  
“Nat! Don’t be mad!” He walks towards her, and she waits for him to get just beyond arm’s reach before throwing another knife. This one grazes his cheek, leaving a shallow trench of blood. Alfred raises his eyebrows at Natalia, who mimics his wink in reply. She had gotten a tad overexcited.   
“Well. Now. You’ve gone and hurt me!” Alfred turns away from her with a huff, dabbing at his cheek delicately, over-emphasizing the small cut. “I’m going to have to be mad at you, then! If you’re going to try and ruin my perfectly handsome face.”  
One more knife to go. Just one more. Then this is all over. One. More... She takes a deep breath, aiming very carefully. Squinting so that her target is just beyond the tall blond man’s back...  
Purple light glints off the blade as she releases it. Could just be a trick of the light but... The resulting thud of projectile to target is much... softer.  
The moment seems to last forever. Natalia’s face drains of color. The audience at first doesn’t realize what has happened, as Alfred’s smile freezes, before his expression slowly goes blank.  
Their noise does not die down as the moment end. It stops completely: in an instant. As though cut short by Natalia’s knife. The feeling is one of an abrupt stop, the nauseous feeling that comes with being dropped suddenly after being raised up high...   
Silence reigns for one... two... three...   
Alfred hits the ground, hilt protruding from his back.   
“Oh, God, no...” Natalia’s voice cracks.  
Chaos erupts.


	11. Showdown

Chapter 10  
“You need to understand your limitations so you can overcome them.”  
-Night Circus  
Matthew knew. Before the sound of sirens pulling up, before the screaming that echoed across the empty train lot from the big top. He just knew.  
“Something went wrong.” Gilbert comments from his cot beside Matthew’s. He must be worried about his brother, about his best friends, from the way his voice, normally so cocky, almost trembles.   
Matthew knows better.  
“Alfred lied...” He whispers in response. His voice does not hide a tremor. Gilbert doesn’t have a thing to worry about. Oh, Lord... he feels sick...  
Gilbert looks up from his laptop, confused. From the look Matthew gives him, though, he understands immediately. How to explain the linked dread they feel in that moment? The intimate understanding that’s as odd as all else that has been taking place?  
“Damn kid! He didn’t wait for us to tell him just what the hell he was up against!” Gilbert shuts his laptop a hair too hard, shoving it aside.  
A deep sigh from Matthew, then a slightly pained grunt as he sits up so he can face Gilbert.  
“Do we even know the answer to that?” Matthew is so scared right now, so terrified for his baby brother... It breaks Gilbert’s heart to hear the quiver in his voice.   
“We know exactly who he is!” Gilbert is trying to be confident enough for them both.  
“We know he’s dead...” Matthew replies limply, “How can we possibly fight a dead man? We can’t win that fight...”  
“We summon him!”  
“Gil no one knows how to-”  
Arthur bursts into the room, out of breath. His eyes are filled with tears. Matthew feels a slight sliver of hope for the first time since the feeling of dread struck him at the sight of their magician.   
“It’s... Alfred... oh, God...” He manages between pants. He’s still in full costume. Arthur has always been terribly fond of the two brothers. The closest thing either of them had to a father was somewhere between Francis and Arthur, after all.  
Matthew’s eyes close tightly. His mind is torn between despair and... a new plan. “I know, I- is it bad?”  
Silence, in this case, is worse than an answer. Matthew’s heart clenches, he tips towards despair.  
“He’s dead... He-.... he’s dead isn’t he?!” Matthew chokes out.  
“No...” Arthur finally responds.  
“But...?”  
A single nod from the magician. Matthew doubles over for a moment, shaking slightly. He wants so badly to be there, with Alfred, to just quit and give Ivan whatever the hell he wants as long as he never never touches baby Alfie again...oh, God, please...   
“I’m so sorry...” He doesn't know who says it.  
All three of them sit in a thick fog of silence. When it feels as though the loss will become unbearable, Matthew makes his decision. He abruptly straightens, tear tracks down his face gleaming in the light.   
“We’re going to get Ivan.”  
“Mattie-” Arthur is startled.  
“Tonight.” Matthew’s sudden cold gaze doesn't match the redness in his face.  
“But-“  
“Now. Go get everyone. Gather them in the train yard.”  
“I... why...”  
“We’re summoning Ivan. You’re summoning Ivan.”  
Arthur stands in a haze, staring at the suddenly calm Matthew with some confusion through his tears.  
“Now! You want more of this to happen?! Go!” Matthew snaps, and Arthur is spurred into motion. Gilbert isn’t surprised by the sudden coldness and need to do something. He understands the feeling. Now is not the time to break down, cease functioning- as he very well knows Matthew wants to.  
“We’re just going to wing this?” Gilbert asks; hand still on Matthew’s shoulder.  
“Well he can’t defeat us all.” Matthew takes Gilberts hand, squeezes it for a moment, and then the still heavily burned, but recovering well, man helps him up.  
“Are you sure, Matt?”  
Matthew hesitates, and not because he’s unsure. It’s the opposite. He wants to say no. How can anything be 100% certain? Yet...  
“Yes. I’m sure. He wouldn’t be working so hard to tear us apart if that weren’t true.” Matthew’s eyes narrow. “He wouldn’t have targeted our leader.”  
(A shift in the perspectives of the story.........................................................................................)  
Here’s the thing: everyone knew that Arthur dabbled in black magic. Well, everyone but Alfred (as per usual on that account). It was no coincidence that he insisted upon being called a magician, upon being THE magician. Sure he knew most of his tricks were just that, but he also very deeply believed that some of them were not. Francis, who lived with that man, swore up and down- with the help of some wine and out of his earshot- that all those strange bits of black magic Arthur bragged about were, in fact, very real.   
Whether or not Matthew believed any of these rumors was not of consequence. Arthur had been bragging about contact with various darker places in other worlds for years. As far as Matthew was concerned he had better damn well prove it now.  
The loose ring of performers, half in costume and half injured, some both, are very clearly upset. Matthew isn’t having it. Grief has its place, yes, and there will be time to mourn, but not in a moment of action.   
Matthew simply appears among them. He doesn’t stride in, or capture anyone’s attention just with his presence. That wasn’t his style. He is simply there, when he was not before. To begin there aren’t any commanding words, or any sort of a speech. Instead he simply takes Arthur’s hand, who then in turn takes Francis’ (who is also currently in a wheelchair because of his injuries [as Matthew and Gilbert should be]), who in turn takes the hand of Antonio, and so on, until the entire circus- minus one ringmaster- is all linked up. They fall silent on their own accord, and a moment after everyone has grabbed a hand Matthew nods.   
Arthur takes the cue, closing his eyes. Chanting pours from him like a living thing, liquid and without hesitation, twisting around the other performers, his words an inky black spelled out against the lighter night sky. Words compound upon one another, seeming to tug each human soul, and perhaps those very un-human, towards the center of their makeshift ring.  
Now, let’s be honest here, Arthur has been waiting, fantasizing, about this moment for years. Sure, he didn’t want Alfred to be hurt, but he did want to show off why everyone should (fear) be impressed with him. He wasn’t going to screw this up. No way in hell. Both figuratively, and in this case, literally.   
The glowing is so subtle that most don’t even realize a form is taking shape until the light from it grows brighter than the weak, filtered moonlight streaming down on them. Those purple eyes are the first thing that come into full focus. They look at the man chanting.   
He’s making a mistake.  
“Ivan Braginski.” Matthew’s voice doesn’t need to be loud to capture attention.  
The apparition whirls, becoming substantial in an instant, as all the haze surrounding his being snaps into focus with the sharp movement. There is no color today, save for those intense purple eyes.  
Matthew releases Gilbert and Arthur’s hands, stepping forward. Ivan assesses the circle around him with careful consideration, taking in the performers- who are now all stripped of their masks. Not a hint of a smile can be found.   
Both face off, one a stand in for an energetic younger brother that knew too much and pushed too far, and the other a very weary, long-faded soul.   
They lock eyes.


	12. Finale

Chapter 11  
“This is not magic. This is the way the world is, only very few people take the time to stop and notice it.”  
-Night Circus  
“I know who you are. I know what happened to you. I don’t know how you became this, and I’m not sure that this is. But that doesn’t matter, does it? Because either way- this is your end. Not ours.”  
Ivan’s eyes narrow at Matthew’s words. “Your ringmaster is gone. Your leader is gone. How do you presume to stand against me?”   
“We are a family. We are not leaders and followers. Love unites us, not for any one person, but for everyone.”  
Ivan scowls. He doesn’t believe it. How could he, after everything he has done to them?  
“We aren’t like your circus, Ivan.” Matthew continues when he receives no answer beyond the harsh look. Voice still determined, but softer.  
“You know nothing of my circus!”Ivan snaps, striding towards Matthew, who doesn't flinch. They’re pretty damn near eye to eye. That’s not something Ivan is used to. Both twins have proved to be very challenging, in ways he could not have seen...  
“I know that you were in the wrong place, at the wrong time. A Russian immigrant during America’s red scare. I know it wasn’t your fault what happened. Your ringmaster used you, he blamed you, and he killed you.”  
Ivan has been tense thought the monologue, on the word “killed” he flinches. “I am JUSTICE! That is what you don’t know!”  
With this Ivan lunges at Matthew, whose eyes widen slightly. A frigid hand plunges into the Animal tamer’s chest before he can react. There’s a sharp gasp as cold pierces his veins. Without missing a beat Gilbert moves forward and grabs Matthew’s hand again, Arthur quickly following suit, and together they yank him back into the safety of the circle, away from Ivan’s power.  
“Justice... Ivan... they arrested him... you know?” Matthew manages between gasps.  
Ivan is still frozen in place, arm outstretched. Slowly he lowers that hand, eyes locked on Matthew’s.   
“Did you know that?” Matthew repeats after a long moment of silence, squeezing the hands of both Gilbert and Arthur. “They arrested your ringmaster.”  
How could Ivan have known? He was nothing but a vengeful spirit. There had been death, and even after death- struggle. He remembered after death only circuses, one after the other... all becoming more and more tainted with bitterness. What he knew of that old life, that tired existence, was only injustice.   
“You’re lying to me. This is a trick.” Ivan’s voice is cold, almost hateful.  
“No, Ivan. I’m not. He was arrested for sabotaging his own circus. He was arrested for the death of multiple acrobats in one such accident. If you ever bothered to check- if you could check- you would know, too, that he was arrested for your murder.” Matthew’s grip tightens on his families hands. “And after all that... you turned out just like him!”  
Ivan cringes, “I am nothing like him!”  
“You cause accidents; you’re a saboteur- like him!”  
“I am nothing like him!!” Ivan’s voice grows slowly in volume, to match Matthew’s. He tries to stop the words flowing from this step in ringmaster, but dissipates when he attacks Matthew. Each time re-forming back in the middle of the circle.   
“You hurt people like he hurt people!” Matthew’s voice rings out. He isn’t trying to gain attention, he’s upset, he’s terrified, for his family, for his baby brother, and that is fueling him. Ivan spins, trying to find any chink he can escape through.   
But this circus is completely resolute.  
“You tried to manipulate us!”  
“NO! No! It was NEVER MEAN TO GO-”  
“You HURT MY FAMILY!”  
“-THIS FAR!”  
“YOU HURT MY BROTHER YOU TRIED TO KILL HIM!!”  
“Stop! Stop! I am not-”  
“HE COULD DIE!! JUST-”  
“-like him!”  
“-LIKE-”  
“No!!”  
“-YOU!!!”   
Ivan howls, falling to his knees in the middle of the circle. Both he and Matthew are trembling, tears spilling down their cheeks. The ring of performers has drawn tighter together, pulled closer to the center by the same forces that have guided them thus far. Their arms are around shoulders, waists. There is silence, for a moment. Broken by a soft noise from Ivan.  
“You... you say these things as though I do not know, as if I didn’t know... on some level...” Ivan raises his eyes to again assess the performers. They lack the luster they had a moment ago. Now there is more color to his cheeks, a silver sheen to his hair, and his eyes rest at a dimmed violet- where before they glowed.   
Matthew says nothing in response. He knows that he has done his job, and all that can be done now must be done by Ivan.   
“He was arrested...” Ivan grimaces. “My death could have been prevented if we had disbanded. If someone could have exposed how they really felt before they acted. If smaller tragedies could have... I was trying to prevent death- don’t you see that?! I was disbanding circuses that did not deserve to exist I-...”  
He trials off, staring into the tear-filled eyes of those surrounding him. A deep, deep sigh.   
“But, no, perhaps not.” Ivan closes his eyes, and it seems as if there is no light, anymore, anywhere. “I am like him. God be my witness, I know that... If I were not, if I were better... I would have let myself disappear. The joy I derived from destruction... it was not a personal joy- it was some form of justice to me. I was in charge. I was finally powerful- I finally could choose but... oh, what does any of that matter now? When I hurt him, that child... I lost it. The visceral joy, the anger of a challenge, the bitterness...” He opens his eyes again, looks down upon his shaking hands, and then clenches them into fists. “I am existing, nothing more. I don’t feel, I... I don’t feel, anymore. I cry, and for what? I work, and for what? All that I have known before is no longer- perhaps never was- the truth. Everything human about me is no longer present, save for the most base of elements, and so yes, I act- and still it is for nothing because all that I feel is not felt.”  
When Ivan looks up again, there is not a trace of color to be found in his eyes. Pinkish tones have found their way back into his skin, and it looks as though his heart is beating again, and his hands may be warm to the touch, if you could just reach out... He could be one of them, you know. He could have just as easily been standing in the place of any of them.   
Matthew exchanges looks with the others, and he for a moment does not want to what he knows he should- none of them want to. For that moment the circus shares the same feelings Ivan has drown in. They want justice, they are bitter, angry, and they lust for the primeval joy of revenge.   
But... Matthew instead lets himself go. With a strange broken sound, as he falls into the grief he had not let himself feel, he gives Ivan one last cue-  
“I... I forgive you.”  
A soft murmur, a repetition of the phrase, around the ring marks Ivan’s not so grand finale, his final show- however much it’s worth... Ivan slowly begins to fade. And there is a very soft, long breath as he releases what has kept him so willfully bonded.  
“In all that I have done, I have done for love, and in all that I have sought, I have sought for belonging. And to these ends I am met only with destruction.”  
He’s gone.  
What once would have been inaudible under the sound of laughter and the chaotic noises of life- knees hitting the hard-packed dirt, the tears that follow, and muffled sobs ring out in the newfound darkness.   
Checkmate.


	13. But what happened to Alfred?

Chapter 12  
“you are not destined or chosen. I wish I could tell you that you were if that would make it easier, but it is not true. You are in the right place, at the right time, and you care to do what needs to be done. Sometimes that is enough.”  
-Night Circus

“Yeah, and you still forgave him?” Alfred’s head is resting on Matthew’s shoulder. Older brother is lying beside younger on the hospital bed, one arm around his shoulders.   
“Because that’s what he needed to move on.” Matthew explains with a soft, loving smile. Much more patient with the boy than he has been in years. He’s playing with Alfred’s hair, running his fingers through it. “Even if you’d died, Alfie, I’d still have had to forgive him...”  
“Okay, okay, sure. I get that. You had to. Cause you were bein’ my hero. And you had to kill the baddie.”  
“Mmmmhmm.”  
“But I don’t get, Matt, where he was going.”   
A sigh from literally everyone in the room. Alfred has been very much mentally dodging this whole “supernatural being” issue. They’re hoping he’ll come around on his own, but that’s looking grim at this point. They don’t want to just come out and say it though- everyone knows Alfred’s fear of the g-word. But Gilbert has had enough of this nonsense.  
“Damnit Alfred! Ivan was a God Damned GHOST!”  
Alfred’s jaw drops. Matthew shoots Gilbert a look that is both annoyed, and very very grateful.   
“We don’t know that God has damned him, Gil...” Matthew murmurs patiently as the color drains from Alfred’s face.   
“A real gh-ghost?!” Alfred’s voice cracks, taking on this very unique whiny quality. “But he touched me!!”  
“He did more than just touch you. He almost killed you- still not sure you’re out of the woods on that one, love.” Arthur adds, patting Alfred’s hand. “But everything is again at peace, because I summoned him, and saved us all.”  
“Ghosts are not so scary...” Kiku is cut off by Gilbert’s indignant reply to Arthur.  
“The rest of us had more of a part than that! I’m pretty sure I did way more work than you!”  
“My work was considerably more important than some research.” Arthur sniffs, haughtily.   
“It was literally not!” Gilbert stands up, ready to fight Arthur in his full body bandages. “You wouldn’t have been able to do anything without research you English son of a-”  
“How can you guys argue so calmly about a ghost?! Like... a real ghost was here and, and, and we almost all died of a ghost attack how am I supposed to continue living knowing ghosts just can attack people and are real?!?” Alfred wails.  
“Alfred, if you stopped living, then you would become a ghost.” Kiku points out. Alfred gives him such a horrified look.  
Matthew hides a smile, pulling his poor baby brother to his chest, cooing to him- “Hush little baby Alfie, you’re all safe and sound. I killed the ghostie.”  
Alfred is way too thrown off by this realization of deep, dark fears to be embarrassed by Matthew babying him.  
“I wouldn’t’na fought ‘em if I’d known...” He mutters into Matthew’s hoodie.  
Gilbert snorts, “Kid. I know you. And that is 200% not true.”  
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Alfred is hoping for a compliment.  
“Well, you’re way too keen on taking on challenges, especially challenges that you know you can’t win at. And you’re too damn stupid stupid to know that you’re going to get yourself killed!” Gilbert is still angry that Alfred lied to them. He was so worried...  
“Hey... ‘m not stupid...”   
Matthew smiles, rubbing up and down Alfred’s back, fingers dancing gently around the healing wound there. “Gil is just worried about you. Don’t be upset. He even cried when he saw you like this. Promise.”  
Alfred peeks up, over Matthew’s shoulder at the stern looking albino.   
“Really?”  
Gilbert hmphs, “Maybe one. One tear.”  
A small smile from Alfred. He feels so loved, so... useful for once. Like he really always has been irreplaceable.   
“But the ghost really is gone. Forever. Right?”  
“Yes, Alfie.”   
“Good.” He snuggles back against his older brother with a muffled- “Love you guys.”  
“Love you too.” Comes back from around the room, in various forms, tones, volumes, each meaning it whole heartedly.


End file.
